Three Mistakes
by Zentih
Summary: HIM? A WHAT? SHE did WHAT with WHOM? A soap opera, of sorts. Three mistakes and an expectedly unexpected surprise.
1. Part One

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to Ms. Rowling and Warner Bros. and Bloomsbury.

A/N: I don't really have much faith in this story. This does deal with sensitive subjects, so you have been warned. Hope you like it.

SSS

Three Mistakes

They shouldn't have.

Or at least, he shouldn't have.

It was wrong and they were both capable enough adults to have stopped it from happening.

But they didn't.

He (and neither would she) would not have denied that it had felt wonderful. Stupendous. Mind-blowing. Breath-taking. Amazing. Wondrous. Beautiful.

So why did he feel so horrible?

If it felt so good, so sensually pleasing, why did it have to be so wrong? Why did it have to be so sinful?

He knew the consequences. So did she. But that didn't stop them. Nothing could, he knew.

Did he feel horrible because they had forgotten all respect to each other as gentleman and lady? Yes, he nodded, perhaps that was it…

True, they _had_ lost all respect as dignified adults. Their nature had been bestial, predatory, almost…leaping, biting, nipping, caressing…

They had lost all intelligent thought, lost all reasoning. The hunger and passion drove them to, now that he thought about it, humiliating ends. But there was more to it than that bestial behavior.

There was that horrible feeling in his stomach, the one that squeezes at you until you throw up. The kind of feeling you get when something unpredicted and unpleasant is going to happen.

He was in the large armchair beside the fireplace in his bedroom. He sat in a thinker's pose, chin on fist, leaning forward and looking into the fire. He sighed and looked behind him, at his bed. There _she_ was: long hair spread messily around her, eyes closed and her lips parted, sleeping. She was bare, and the blanket was pushed down to her waist. Sleeping on her belly, one arm was on her head, the other stretched out beside her, looking for her lover, even while in slumber. So innocent, helpless almost.

Slipping in beside her, he pulled her arm around her. But he needn't, for she had instantly wrapped her arm around his torso. She murmured his name into his ear softly into his ear and fell again into her deep sleep. He pulled up the blanket around the both of them and pressed his body close to hers. Even with the fire going, it was a cold night, and the blizzard still raged outside.

SSS

He had invited her to dinner. They both thought a personal get-together would strengthen the relationship between their two companies. He, being arrogant as he was, spared not a single chance to show-off. He had ordered his house-elves to prepare a feast fit for a king and ordered other house-elves to bring out the antiques Borgin & Burkes would kill for. He wanted everything grand and dramatic. He was, after all, as rich as a king.

But when she'd shown up at 7:59 sharp at his manor, his ego had stumbled a bit. She looked so humble in her silver dress robes, long hair let down, not in the usual haphazard bun or other equally bizarre hair-do's she would tie up at work. She had gazed with her wide eyes even wider when she entered.

She gasped when she saw a priceless relic/contraption hybrid he'd inherited from his great-grandfather.

"Surely not! Is this really a Wrakspurt detector?"

A _what _detector?

He stood awkwardly in the middle of his parlor while she rushed from this side of the room to the other, exclaiming and gasping, sighing and whispering in excitement.

"Ahem. Would you like to take a seat?" he asked hesitantly, not sure if this excitable young woman would oblige.

She smiled, said, "Of course," and sat down on the edge of a sofa. She quickly jumped up.

"Has this been sat on by a vampire? They leave traces of ectoplasm, too, even if they aren't ghosts…." she said serenely, as if she just said, "The sky is blue because it wants to be."

Puzzled, he walked over.

There was a strange sensation that started at his belly and came out of his mouth. He laughed. Chuckling, he said, "No, that's wine. Terribly sorry, I'll have it cleaned up."

Imagine _him_, laughing, of all people. Especially after the war…

The actual dinner was a blur. They talked a lot, business and such, but what he remembered most was the laughter, both from him and her. Him, laughing at every little joke when he hadn't so much given a chuckle in the last two-three years. He could tell this was something new for her, too, for he had never seen her laugh at work, just an offhand smile. The presence of her sitting so near made him very curious as to why he hadn't noticed her much at Hogwarts…

That was the first mistake: sitting so close together. Originally, they were to be seated in the Grand Table, the one where the length of the table was at least five miles. The table where you had to yell your lungs off to talk to the person on the other side. And passing the salt was hell, too.

No, he decided, they would sit at the small dinner table, the one where if he leaned over, his lips would touch her nose. The table where every whisper, every joke could be heard. And when they both shook with laughter, they were constantly bumping into each other…

They had started arguing. Passionately. The second mistake. He got in her face, she got in his. For someone so innocent and naïve, she had a surprisingly sharp and cold demeanor.

"Look, they _can _exist. People tell us these things, countless eyewitnesses—"

"People could be lying. Or have you not thought of that yet?"

"Have you ever seen the looks on their faces, their expressions?"

"There are things called actors and liars. They're very—"

They had adjourned to his parlor, drinking wine. Or was it whiskey? Vodka? Third mistake.

Everything became blurry. He didn't know how, but they had gotten awfully close on the loveseat…

But the next part was clearer. In his bedroom…pushing her against the wall, ravishing her…her, pushing him back onto the bed…sinfully crawling up on his body…

SSS

_An undefined amount of weeks later…_

The first ray of winter sunlight hit him full on in his face. He opened his eyes reluctantly. Next to him, the bed was empty.

He jumped upright, but a cool hand soothed him.

She crept in beside him, and pulled him down into the covers. Her pale blue eyes met his. She smiled and buried her face into his neck, body pressing against him. He barely suppressed a shuddered. Why did this have to be so wrong?

"There's somebody else in my body today. Not a Wrakspurt, though. I don't know who, but I like them, anyways."

"What?"

"Draco, I think I'm pregnant."

His stomach nearly lost it and his head whirled. Involuntarily, he tensed. No, no, no, no...

"No. I _know_ I'm pregnant."

His breathing came in too fast. His heart thumped painfully. He wasn't ready, but the race had started without him. He couldn't support a baby. Wait, of course he could; he was filthy rich! But his reputation ("That's all you care about, isn't it?" said a tiny voice in his head)! If Witch Weekly found out the hottest bachelor in Britain had slept with a total stranger and got her pregnant…His business rivals would joke about it at work, laughing themselves silly…his mother would turn her head away in shame… ("No she wouldn't, you know she wouldn't…she'd take care of her…")

"Luna," he croaked out, "how can you be sure?"

"I've tested it three times this morning. I threw up. I _feel _the little one inside me," she said simply, as if stating the weather.

He would be a walking shame and a laughingstock. He could just forget about her and ignore it…No; she was so innocent, so naïve…How could he let this have happened to such a sweet girl?

His rarely used conscience jumped out. Yes, he would help her in any way possible. Conscience's friend Guilt leaped out as well. It was his fault and he was going to fix it.

Luna had grabbed his hand and placed it on her bare stomach. She smiled at him, serene, peaceful, as if nothing was really wrong. His heart lifted. Doing good had some satisfaction in it, didn't it? He started. _Him_, Draco Malfoy, a _father_…

SSS

How was it? Should I continue? As I've said before, I don't have much faith in this story. I hope you guys like it anyway. REVIEW AND TELL ME. OR ELSE.


	2. Part Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it; J.K. Rowling does.

A/N: Thanks for all who reviewed. I'm sorry about the mistakes and appreciate you guys telling me. Again, I am a bit hesitant about where this story is going, and I only have a rough idea how this whole story's going to work out.

SSS

_Part Two_

The war had changed many people in different ways. With the killings and murders, torture and warfare going on right in front of everybody's faces, it was hard to ignore everything and remain unscathed.

Take Neville Longbottom for instance. Before the war had begun, he was a bumbling, forgetful boy, slightly overweight and cowardly. Nobody had paid much attention to him, and he had very low self esteem. He was not a likely candidate for a hero.

But during the war, he was surprisingly courageous, and headstrong. The unstable condition of his parents had given him passion. He wanted justice. He wanted all others after him to feel safe; he was willing to sacrifice himself for that cause. As it turned out, the more confident Mr. Longbottom got, the better he was at magic. He had also developed a strange resilience to the Cruciatus Curse. He truly turned out to be a hero, proving himself to be quite a competent Auror, capturing no less than twenty Death Eaters, including Rabastan and Rodulphus Lestrange.

Now he is a certified Herbologist, though from time to time he helped out in tough cases in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Instead of a stumbling boy, he is a hearty young man with a smile always on his face.

Though many of the Wizarding Community believes they now prosper, living in a "happily ever after", they are deceived. Prejudice is still there, though extremely insignificant. But the family members of Death Eaters and former Death Eaters that had denounced their ways when the war began were frowned upon by society. They had a hard time finding jobs, nobody trusted them, they could not socialize like other people…

But this was occurring less and less. But to the family members of prominent Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort's most 'trusted' men and women, they had a hard time with _everybody._

Like Draco Malfoy.

He had to endure glares and cold glances after they Ministry had decided to let him out of Azkaban. (The only reason he got out, of course, was that "the Chosen One" himself had vouched for Draco. But that's a different story…). Absolutely nobody would hire him, not even when he had asked Tom of the Leaky Cauldron for a position as a waiter. All refused him, some less politely than others.

He had changed.

Really.

He tried to prove it, giving out generous amounts of his father's money (which, thankfully, the Ministry never got hold of) to various magical orphanages and St. Mungo's. Many had raised eyebrows, none had a change of heart.

Harry "the Boy-Who-Didn't-Die" (Yet) Potter had offered him a job, any job at the Ministry. Draco refused, his pride getting the better of himself. He had replied in a very rude letter containing several words that were "not very nice".

So, naturally, he got himself a job. He bought the Whizz Hard Books (Diagon Alley Branch) Company with that never-ending amount of money in his father's bank. Buying the company turned out to be a bad idea. _Quidditch Through the Ages _was still a best seller, but many people were obviously refusing to buy any others, thinking he had placed Dark Magic on all the books so that Lord "What's His Name" could rise again.

Load of rubbish of course.

The only reason Whizz Hard Books didn't go bankrupt was that the Quibbler had decided to help out. Turns out that the editor knew Draco in Hogwarts…

Luna Lovegood _had_ changed during the war, though it was very hard to notice it. Even her friends (if you could call them that) had a hard time picking out what was different. The most obvious, though, was the faint scar on her hand; the one Lord Voldemort himself had given her (but it wasn't a _magical _scar, thank goodness).

She _was_ less dreamy, focusing on managing the paper. She was certainly more active; the countless duels with Death Eaters had influenced that. Her eyes revealed the most, if she wasn't wearing a mask or glasses that day. Before the war, they were always out of focus, looking heavenward with innocence. Now there was sadness, as if she carried some horrible burden in her mind that she would never get rid of.

Draco, after various forms of cajoling from his board of advisors, (not that he needed any persuasion) had accepted the Quibbler's help. The books sold a bit better now.

SSS

_A few days later…_

They had told Mrs. Malfoy and Mr. Lovegood. I will not describe their reactions here, for they contained too many capital letters and various punctuation marks used in excess.

All you need to know is that there were furious cries and yells from Mrs. Malfoy, glares and lecturing (half shouted) from Mr. Lovegood, fuming from Draco and a puzzled look from Luna.

"I don't see why this is wrong…" asked Luna softly, thinking that all this shouting was ridiculous.

"Why it is wrong is that my dunderhead of a son thinks it's all right to sleep around…" cried Narcissa, half in hysterics.

"Really, Luna! You've got a whole life ahead of you. Did you really want to start a family so soon? You're not even married!" proclaimed Mr. Lovegood, exasperated.

"Well, I thought it would be nice to have a baby…"

"You're barely nineteen!" cried Luna's father.

The young woman looked at him, her eyes focused on him, losing that dazed look.

"I am an adult, yes?" she asked as if to make sure.

The older man nodded slowly.

"I made my own choices, yes?"

He nodded again.

"And I knew this could happen, yes?"

Another nod.

"So why is it wrong?"

Mr. Lovegood tiredly opened his mouth, closing his eyes, about to go over the whole lecture again, but someone else beat him to it.

"It's wrong because we barely know each other. What's stopping me from walking away right now, not even giving a glance backward? I could care less. You would be alone. Now think about it. Would you be able to take care of the baby then? Be realistic." Draco looked tired, but he looked at Luna with cold eyes. He looked like a teacher asking a troubling pupil a question which all answers would be considered wrong.

They were all at Malfoy Manor, sitting around the fire. Mrs. Malfoy sat in the leather armchair, back straight, hands on her lap. Mr. Lovegood stood in front of the fire beside Narcissa. Draco sat in front of the fire in a stool. Luna sat in the other armchair.

Luna opened her mouth to answer, but Draco cut her off.

"Nurses, and so forth, yes? You're father could back you financially, right? He could disown you, no?"

Luna's father expression told everybody that he had, indeed, considered the idea.

"Nurses would ask questions. Nannies would want to know the father. Everybody knows you aren't married. Think of you're reputation, editor of the Quibbler. The story would get out: the Quibbler is run by a whore. The whole paper wouldn't sell as well, would it? People would talk."

"I've had people talking about me for seven years. I got through that, didn't I?" muttered the new, bitter side of Luna.

All was quiet. Someone sighed heavily.

"As it turns out, I'm not that heartless," said Draco. "It's more my fault than Luna's. I'll take care of everything. Or everything I can manage." He ended in a hesitant note, his new morals conflicting with his old ones.

"Yeah, you better," muttered Luna's father.

Once, Draco would have replied in sneer, insulting the older man badly. He bit his tongue. Once he saw the father look at his daughter lovingly and sadly, those insults and thoughts disappeared. He was just looking out for his daughter. Other people had feelings, too.

_His father never looked out for him like that. He was always a tool to Lucius Malfoy…_

No, he thought to himself, I will not turn out like my father. I will be better. This may have started bad, but it would all end good. He would love his child, and his child would love him.

Suddenly Draco found himself wishing the baby loved him. Or at least _liked _him.

So plans were made. As soon as Luna would start showing that she was pregnant, she would stop showing up at work. She would work by owl. She would stay with Narcissa, who promised she would take good care of Luna at her cottage in the country.

"It's nothing, nothing, _really_. I have two house-elves and you'll notice I'm not a _fat_ old woman," she said, exasperated at Luna and her father's continuous words of thanks.

Draco, on the other hand, would provide everything for the baby.

Luna refused.

"I _insist_, madam. It's my child, too."

"So you should provide half, and I'll provide the other half. I'm not poor," said Luna peacefully.

"Look, I've already inconvenienced you. So I will take full responsibility of the child…"

This was not the right thing to say.

Luna looked angry. This was a new sight to everyone in the room (including Mr. Lovegood), who had never seen such an aggressive emotion on such a quiet girl.

Narcissa decided it was time to leave. She got up, stretched, and said goodnight and quickly Apparated away. Mr. Lovegood did the same, only much quicker.

Through narrow eyes, Luna looked at Draco.

"So you think it's just your child, not mine?"

She spoke the words quietly, but with so much menace, sparks flew out of her wand tucked behind her ear.

"No, of course not," said Draco warily, looking at Luna with apprehension.

"So we will both share the responsibility equally?"

Red sparks flew out and popped loudly.

"Of course, of course…"

SSS

They would not speak to each other at all, unless it was absolutely necessary. If everything worked out, no one would notice a thing.

When Luna looked a little more than just 'overweight', she had moved into Narcissa's house. She informed everyone at work that she was traveling to Norway to study several specimens of strange magical animals there. She would be there for an "undefined amount of time, so don't think I'm dead if I don't return for two year" as written in her memo.

It was very easy for both Luna and Draco to not be noticed. Luna did not have many close friends other than Ginny, Hermione and Neville, who all thought she was in Norway. Luna's associates and colleagues were not very involved with her personally, so they would not worry.

Draco was also easily dismissed. Being the son of Voldemort's most loyal supporters and being accused of attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore had its perks.

Nobody really noticed him looking stressed every morning and every evening before he went home. All his workers were terrified of him and they barely saw him at work; he usually holed himself up in his office. Everything worked out, really.

SSS

He Apparated by every evening to Mrs. Malfoy's cottage to check up on Luna. They were very tiring times. His mother made him to every little chore in the house, like get Luna pillows so she wasn't uncomfortable, make sure the room was clean for Luna, cook meals for Luna ("The house-elves can do that!") _anything_ that had to do with Luna.

It was as if they were _married_. Honestly.

Draco had a sneaking suspicion his mother was doing this on purpose. And it wasn't hard to see that Narcissa thoroughly enjoyed it. Luna, however, was unusual as ever. She stated many unpleasant facts about him when she watched him, hard truths that made him stop and fix whatever it was about him. Stranger were her advices.

"Don't touch that black quill today. It doesn't like you."

"That shifty worker that always wears pink socks? Demote her. She's planning your downfall."

"Get rid of that mistletoe in your trash can. It's infested with nargles."

"The candle on top of your shelf is going to fall and burn the manuscript sent in by that angry Ministry warlock. If it burns, he'll sue you."

They turned out to be true. "The Fiasco of Ms. Pink Socks" turned out to be a folk tale at the office (thankfully, the situation was contained), and Draco barely saved the manuscript, which haunted him at night months afterward, the angry warlock's face floating in his dreams.

The Birthday, as it was called, loomed in the distance, but slowly crawled forward. It was unnoticed by everyone else, especially Luna, who had now taken to reading articles from the Quibbler to the baby. The Birthday surged forward when nobody was looking and before he knew it, Draco saw it right under his nose.

He was in the office, finishing some work, when he casually looked at the clock. 11:47. His eyes traveled to the date. Draco lurched forward, staring at the clock. That was the date! But tomorrow, Luna would—

Swearing obscenities at the clock and at fate, he Apparated to the cottage quickly, with a funny feeling in his stomach, curiously like the one before you threw up.

The next day, it turns out, that he was a (very) proud father of a baby boy.

SSS

Sorry for any mistakes I've made. It was very hard to write. I know there are probably glaring holes in the story; I'll try to fix them in the next chapter…If nobody flames me, or threatens me with murder for continuing the story…

REVIEW. CLICK THE BUTTON. IT WANTS TO BE CLICKED. IT WANTS REVIEWS. SO DO I. GO ON, YOU CAN'T RESIST…REVIEW, AND FORTUNE WILL SMILE DOWN UPON YOU…


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